


Yes, Tom - Chapter 26

by riddlemetitillatedhiddles (ninecats)



Series: Yes, Tom [28]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF
Genre: Anal Plug, Dom/sub, F/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 02:50:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/819100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninecats/pseuds/riddlemetitillatedhiddles





	Yes, Tom - Chapter 26

Tom's plans for the afternoon involved mostly sightseeing, so unfortunately I walked. A lot. Which was terribly uncomfortable with the plug. At times, I'd forget all about it, albeit for the briefest of moments. Other times, it was so difficult, so agonizing, I thought for sure I'd give up and beg for mercy, asking Tom for a different punishment. Then, there were the times when the constant intrusion made all the blood run straight to my clitoris, throbbing furiously in time with my quickened pulse. That was when I'd bite my lip, clutching Tom's hand even more tightly, and he'd lean down, teasing me with a kiss. I figured I'd come out of the ordeal either hating anything involving anal or I'd have an intense, newfound love for it. I just couldn't decide yet which it would be.  
We spent the entire day basically doing the touristy thing. I was actually really excited about everything, despite the obvious physical discomfort. We went to the pier, and the Dylan Thomas Centre, Oystermouth Castle, and the 1940s street. Tom got stopped a couple of times by autograph- and photo-seeking teenagers, but overall things were pretty subdued, and tremendously lovely. We joked around, held hands, partook in a few very minor public displays of affection, and overall had loads of fun.  
Things between us always were copacetic when our dynamic was strongest. Tom's swift punishments and rigid expectations showed his love for me. My acceptance of his authority and (at least attempted) adherence to his rules showed mine. I wasn't stupid. I knew many people, including both of our families, could never understand why this worked, why we both needed it even though we were completely free-thinking and believed in equality. I never thought I was supposed to be subservient, though, except to the man I chose to trust with that honor. I didn't feel less than, I felt exalted. It was as if my entire life I was missing this part of my soul, and when I met Tom, I found it. He completed me. Made me better in every way. Gave me those missing parts and let me be myself. And even with the doubts, I truly believed and trusted he felt the same way.  
When we finally headed back to the cottage, I was blissful from our perfect day. Well, except for one tiny (and increasingly intrusive) thing: I couldn't wait to take the plug out. It was so hard to believe that such a tiny piece of steel could cause such discomfort. Even after reading the various accounts online, I still was shocked that it could be so difficult to endure. I definitely understood why I was being punished, but I felt I had learned my lesson, and I was anxious to remove it. As we walked through the door, it was the first thing I mentioned, which was probably not the ideal way to broach the subject.  
"Tom… I mean, sir, can I please take the thing out now? Please?" I put on my best sexy/demure face, replete with coy lip-biting and flirtatious eyelash-batting.  
"Darling, do you remember what the definition of punishment is?"  
I had to clench my jaw shut to keep from sighing audibly with irritation.  
Tom had made me memorize definitions of certain words so that when I seemed to (in his opinion, obviously) forget the purpose of something, he could prompt me to recite the proper definition, hence re-educating me in said forgotten subject. Trying my best to control the insolent tone that threatened to get me in even worse trouble, I dutifully responded, "A penalty imposed as retribution for an offense".  
"And what is the definition of a penalty?"  
Why can't he just say no? Tom was literally incapable of being succinct. Even a simple denial turned into a soliloquy with him. I squeezed my eyes shut, worried, because he could always tell when I was being disingenuous. And after that morning, the last thing I wanted to do was piss him off more. I settled my thoughts, exhaled, and replied softly, "An unpleasant consequence suffered as the result of an action, as in the violation of a rule". He didn't say anything, he just stared at me for a moment, his eyebrows cocked just slightly in anticipation of my continued response. Opening my eyes, I quickly added, "You're right. I'm sorry, sir."  
His face softened and he took me in his arms. Leaning down, he brushed his lips against my neck. He stayed there, his voice barely a whisper, lips still against my skin as he reassured me, "If you really can't do it, darling, it's alright. I think you can. Only you can truly make that decision, though. I love you so much, and I trust whatever choice you make is the proper one." Pulling back, he tilted my chin up and forced my gaze to his before continuing. "If you can do it, though, I think it's best you leave it in until supper. You need to think about what you did."  
I nodded once to concur. Perhaps a casual observer might wonder why I didn't lie, tell him I was in pain, or felt ill. I couldn't do that; he knew I couldn't do that. I would never do that. It undermined everything about our life and our love. And, honestly, I knew he was right. His response was fitting, perfectly molded to my personality. There were times when Tom would change his methods. He liked to keep me honest, keep me thinking. He understood my mind better than I did, and he knew certain situations warranted strictness, whereas others required a little more finesse. Giving me permission to give up was the strongest motivation I could receive. Challenged, I become resolved to tough it out. "I can do it."  
A huge grin spread across his face, and he pulled me tightly against his body, encouraging me and imbuing me with strength. "Of course you can, darling. I never doubt that you can do anything you truly want to do. Which reminds me…" Pulling my phone out of his inner jacket pocket, he handed it to me.  
"Sir, I'm so sorry. I don't even know why…"  
"Elizabeth, you've already apologized, and you have your punishment, you don't need to dwell any longer," Tom interrupted me, his voice stern but his expression full of love and forgiveness. "It's over, sweetheart, understood?" Keeping perfectly silent, I just nodded. I still struggled with letting go of guilt, and it was one area Tom really wanted me to improve. He re-tightened his arms around me and kissed me on the top of my head. "The phone call was from Marvel. They said it's fine if you want to wait until Monday to make your decision, but that they've had someone unable to get the proper paperwork and they really need someone with your familiarity with Marvel and your ability to be a personal assistant if needed. They said they'd make a solid offer to work on Avengers 2."  
"Wait, really?"  
Nodding, he added, syllables lengthened impossibly for added suspense, "Possibly as a third assistant director."  
"Holy fuck." I bit my lip, having broken a rule, but Tom just laughed.  
"It's okay, darling, I think that the swearing is warranted," he remarked, kissing me tenderly as my mind raced. This was a total game-changer to be sure. While a lower assistant director was not much above a production assistant, anything where I could possibly be working with, close to, or even in the same vicinity as Joss Whedon was like its own reward. So awesome. Plus, a lot of times the lower assistant directors got to wrangle the actors to and from set, organize extras, even manage a production assistant or two. And it could definitely lead to bigger and better things. Maybe I could one day direct my own film. My mind bustled with so many possibilities. I knew at that moment I couldn't turn it down if I was serious about a career in film, and especially if I wanted to keep working for Marvel. They really were showing a lot of faith in me.  
"I'm going to say yes." I looked up at him, my eyes flitting between excitement and clear trepidation. Luckily, Marvel had made my decision for me. It was impossible to say no.  
"Darling why…" Tom started to question my slight hesitation, my obvious nervousness, but stopped himself as he remembered our agreement. I had slowly been preparing myself to admit how insecure I'd become since the Sophie-incident. I knew I had to when we got home, and having a deadline actually made me at peace with it. A sense of calm had settled over me. It felt like submitting, but instead of to a person, to an idea. The same result came from each situation, though. It helped me do the right thing and not have so much stress about issues that were bothering me. Tom kissed me again, deeper, a slight groan rumbling from his throat as he cupped my sore buttocks and pulled my body flush with his.  
He didn't have to say anything, I already knew; I unbuckled his belt and slid to my knees as he reclined against the kitchen counter. He helped undo his jeans completely and pushed them down just enough, his already semi-erect cock at my mouth's level. Looking up at him through lowered lashes, I licked my lips patiently. His eyes narrowed and he purred, "Such a good girl, darling. Do you want to suck my cock?"  
In my best little girl voice, I replied, "Yes, please, sir."  
"Beg me."  
"Please let me suck your cock, sir. Please?" I tried to hide the slight grin on my face, knowing this was nowhere near enough begging.  
He gave me that look. That 'you must be kidding' look: half-smirk, eyes playful, brows slightly knitted together, head tilted to one side. "Oh, come now, darling. I know my little slut can beg better than that."  
"Please, sir, please may I suck your big hard cock? Please? I love the way your cock feels when it's in my mouth. I want to feel your cock push down into my throat. Please?"  
"You want my cock in your mouth? You want me to fuck your mouth?"  
"I do want it, sir. Please may I have it in my mouth? Please fuck my mouth, sir, I need your cock in my throat."  
"Oh you are a good little slut, aren't you? You beg so well. Shall I reward you?"  
Nodding excitedly, I pushed myself up a little higher on my knees, answering, "Yes, sir, please. Please?"  
"No gagging, right?"  
"No, I promise, sir."  
Wrapping his fingers around his length, Tom stroked it a few times as I opened my mouth and waited patiently. If I moved, or rushed him, I would be chastised. Fixedly, I kept my gaze on his cock, watching as he became totally erect in front of me, his tip appearing as his foreskin retracted. He smiled and removed his hand. "Patience is a wonderful virtue, darling. Now you may suck my cock."  
I tempered my desire to put his entire cock in my mouth immediately, knowing he always preferred the intensity of a long warm up. So I lifted his rigid length and focused on his balls instead, taking one in my mouth and sucking gently. I repeated the action on the other side, minding my teeth, using my tongue to cradle it gently. He gasped and moaned, his thighs flexing reactively, so I sucked a little harder. One of his hands found the back of my head, gripping my hair firmly but without pulling. After a few more seconds, I decided it was time. I moved up and used my tongue to trace the head of his cock, licking off the tangy pre-cum before closing my lips around the tip and giving it a big, wet kiss. I trailed kisses along his shaft, savoring the taste of his body, my clitoris throbbing and my ass following suit.  
Tom's fingers tightened their hold of my hair, so I knew he was ready for more. I took him into my mouth slowly, keeping my lips as close together as possible to increase the tension of entry. He inhaled sharply, assuring me my efforts were successful. For the first few movements, I didn't stop until his tip jutted against my throat, then I pulled all the way back until he was barely even inside my mouth. I did this a few times, using my tongue to push up against the underside of his shaft and being careful to keep him in my mouth at least partially. Pretty soon, he was directing the game, holding me still with his cock lodged in my throat, then letting me go and doing it again. I didn't gag once. After a few minutes, he remarked, his voice breathy, "Good girl. Fucking brilliant. You are just brilliant."  
Tom let go of my hair momentarily, so I knew he wanted to finish soon. I hastened my pace, grabbing his hips to steady myself. He started to recoil just a bit, so I concentrated on the top of his cock, tightening my lips and sucking hard and fast until he grabbed me once more. This time, he used both hands, pulling me closer as he thrust deep into my throat. It took only a few thrusts. "Oh fuck! Fuck!" Each time he rocked his hips, another exclamation, until he just grunted and came, holding me steady as his seed flowed into my throat. I didn't pull away; I clutched his buttocks and held him in my mouth, beckoning him deeper, milking his cock for every drop. When he let go, he literally fell to his knees next to me and held me close. "Darling… Fuck, darling."  
I was beaming. Pleasing him was everything to me. Hearing him praise me for anything is what I lived for, whether it was sexual or in life. "So that was good, sir?"  
He chuckled under his breath, hugging me and kissing my forehead. "Fuck, Elizabeth. Honestly. You know my body like nobody ever has." He pulled away for a second, looking in my eyes, and he added, "You know me." I buried my face against his chest as he embraced me, his head resting against my shoulder.

****

We had a quiet dinner. I made some lemon pepper chicken, and cooking was the perfect diversion because it got my mind off my body by occupying my full attention. Tom poured some white wine that had been left as a welcome gift for us, and we toasted to my new job. It was rather romantic: Al Green playing on the stereo as we ate by candlelight. Before I knew it, Tom got very serious.  
"Elizabeth," he began, with those eyebrows furrowed intently, his hand reaching across to hold mine. "I've been thinking about some issues you raised when I was having my… 'existential crisis'." Our fingers entwined, I peered up at him, trying to glean what things he meant. The expression on his face was guarded and yet rawly emotional as he struggled to keep it together. Usually successful, this time he was failing miserably. He didn't say anything more, so I shifted a little in my seat, the plug and my sore ass still forcing me to be entirely aware of my body in a staggering way. Tom noticed immediately, and before I could say anything, he began apologizing frantically, "Oh darling, I'm so sorry. Of course you may take the plug out now. You've done a fantastic job. Such a good girl. I honestly just forget for a moment. Forgive me?"  
I furrowed my brow, narrowing my eyes momentarily so that he knew I wasn't going to simply let it go. Just as soon I relaxed it, though, as I was so happy to finally be able to remove the loathsome plug. "Okay, I'll be right back. But I really want to hear what you have to say. Promise me you'll continue," I urged gently. He seemed slightly flustered, slightly off, and I was worried he'd say it was nothing and shrug it off as if it were unimportant. I added, "Sir… I mean it," softly but emphatically. I wanted him to understand, he needed to be honest just as much as I did.  
A restrained smile appeared, and he agreed, "Of course, darling. As soon as you get finished. Now go, and hurry back. Don't forget to tend to your wounds, too."  
"Yes, sir." Hurriedly I ran up the stairs and to the bathroom. Once inside, I pulled down my panties and removed the plug. An audible sigh of relief fell from my lips. I put a little hydrocortisone around the chaffed and red spots where the plug had been, then put some antibiotic cream with pain reliever on the wounds from my whipping. The welts on my ass were beautiful but brutal: purplish slashes were raised across my skin. It was exhilarating to see them, and also consoling; my punishment was over, I was forgiven, and I knew Tom loved me enough to help me get to this point. I washed the plug, washed my hands, and took a couple of ibuprofen to help with the discomfort. When I went to put the plug back in Tom's leather satchel, I noticed something I had never seen before.  
It was a small, black, velvet jewelry box. I froze. I closed the satchel, tiptoed back into the bathroom, and quietly shut the door. What do I do? It was a ring. I knew it was. What else could it be? Oh god. Okay, calm down Ellie. Taking a deep breath, I tried to think things through rationally. He didn't have the box with him, so the chances he would actually propose tonight were pretty low. However, he did bring it with him on our trip, so it seemed likely he intended to do it sometime soon, and definitely while we were still in Wales. It was Saturday, and we had plans to stay until Monday morning. Oh fuck.  
Why am I freaking out? Isn't this what I've been wanting all along? I did. I wanted our happy ending more than anything, but… Yes, there was a huge impediment to this perfect vision. Unfortunately, despite the fact that I did love Tom, and did want to be with him, I still couldn't get rid of Sophie's specter haunting my self-esteem. And it wasn't just her, it was Tom. Something about the whole situation still rubbed me wrong. She was in his head, no matter how much he protested to the contrary. Even when little things happened, like him being so grouchy when I didn't want to wake up, I automatically assumed it was related to Sophie. I realized that I really couldn't wait until our vacation was over to talk to Tom. I had to talk to him now, both about being scared to be apart, and about her.  
I didn't want Tom to know I'd found the box, so I left the plug in the bathroom and walked back downstairs. Peeking around the corner, I asked him as innocently as possible, "I left the plug in the bathroom, is that okay, Sir? Or do you want me to put it away?"  
"No, that's fine. Just leave it there and I'll put it away later. Come sit down."  
I nodded, joining him on the sofa. He chuckled self-consciously, and even though I knew I shouldn't, I interrupted him. "Tom, I didn't want to take the job because I'm scared to be away from you. I'm scared that you'll find your way back to her. Until New Year's I never really worried about Sophie, but Tom, now I worry almost all the time." It all came out. Fell out, flowing unabated like a dam suddenly opening, and flooding everything in its path. And everyone. When I finally looked up, Tom looked crushed and I felt awful. "I'm sorry. I wanted to wait, but I couldn't. I think what it comes down to is I need to go, and I need to see that Sophie is really not what this is all about."  
"Wait… you think that? Still? It is still about this?" Shaking his head, he moved away from me, and I grabbed his hand. "Elizabeth…" His jaw was clenched, but he didn't say anything else. He didn't give me the grandly impassioned and poetic denial this time, he just shook his head more.  
"Tom…" I tried to move my hand, hoping he'd press his finger into the palm of my hand and I could grab the lifeline, reconnect, but he refused. Instead, he slowly pulled his hand from my grip and got up, heading towards the stairs. "Are you not going to even talk about it? You tell me to be honest and this is what I get?"  
"I'm sorry, Elizabeth, but I just cannot handle this right now. It kills me that you don't trust me. I know I've done some stupid things, but I've never done anything but love you and be faithful to you. And that is the truth. From the first day on set, until now, I've been with nobody but you, and I haven't wanted to, either."  
"But…" He stood, shoulders slumped, head down, fingers gripping the stair's railing. "It's not your body I'm talking about," I choked back a sob as I continued, "it's your heart."  
"Do you know what I wanted to talk to you about tonight?" His gaze met mine, full of hurt and accusation. Sighing impassively, he just said, "Forget it. I'm sorry. You're right. I'll think about what you said." Then he turned and walked up the stairs.  
Stunned, I sat there. Uncertain of what to do, I leaned back and exhaled, staring up at the ceiling. I knew Tom would be somewhat wounded, but I hadn't thought he'd react so terribly. I couldn't understand why. I was being honest, that's what he wanted, right? But Tom is allowed to be upset and have emotions too…  
Hoping he'd let me at least explain a little better, and smooth things over, I braced myself for the worst and started to get up. Picking up my phone, I opened it up, looking to see if I had any other texts or missed calls. I didn't even notice at first that it was Tom's phone, since we both have the same phone. And that's when I received the second shock of the day.  
At the top of the messages was a saved number, Sophie's saved number, and a message, from late the night before. It said simply, "I'm pregnant."


End file.
